A Hero's Lament
by Weiila
Summary: Aaah, Valentine's Day. How nice. And that guy who said Too much love will kill you, remember him? He was truly right. Jak II. Almost everyoneXJak. See Jak. See Jak run. Run, Jak, RUN!
1. The hunt is on

_Disclaimer: _Don't own them, they all belong to Naughty Dog Inc. Love you guys! I'm cheering you on in the work on the next trilogy!

_Author's note: _This is not to be taken seriously in any way. If you do, it'll only hurt your brain and you'll probably hunt me down with pitchforks. And I don't like that.

Set during Jak II, if only because I didn't want Veger and Kleiver in this mix. EW. The moment I see a Jak/Veger fic, something dies. My soul, for starters.

A Hero's Lament

Nights in Haven City were normally a lot more pleasant than the days. During the days, you ended up seeing all the nasty things that had happened during the night, in broad daylight. Darkness was preferable.

But this night was different. The tension that even normally filled the air had intensified so much that it seemed like the slightest spark would make it explode. No pedestrians were out – the people of Haven had developed survival instincts that would make a psychic turtle proud. Only a few Krimzon Guards wandered the streets, but they too felt the strange air and formed bigger patrols than normal, muttering about unsettling rumors to excuse themselves. But they all knew that there was something else, something they could not quite figure out. But it scared them, even those who had been hardened by the cruelty of their superiors until no emotions seemed to remain in the harsh shells of their hearts.

The tension stood up on its back claws and pawed the night air with a howl of perverse delight as nervous reports began flying between the soldiers, mentions of shadows seen from the corner of their eyes but disappearing before they could investigate. The KGs huddled closer together.

From the balcony on top of his palace, Baron Praxis gazed down upon the city beneath him. Even up there he could sense that something was wrong.

Something was afoot in the slums.

A shadow zoomed through the empty, cracked streets, a steady buzz surrounding its flight a few inches above the ground. Labored breaths hissed through tightly clenched teeth as the figure turned his wild eyes back and forth, zigzagging from one side of the road to another.

On top of a nearby house, a pair of long ears twitched as the buzzing reached them. The lips belonging to the same person who owned the ears, curled upwards in a cold smile. It appeared that the patience had been worth it.

The waiting hunter stood up and hung the barrel of his gun onto his shoulder, squinting one eye shut as he aimed through the telescopic sight, and heavy tails of brown hair swept against each other in the chilly wind.

"Come here, my pretty little pawn…" a hoarse voice whispered.

In the last moment the fleeing silhouette noticed the shape of a man against the foggy moon, and desperately somersaulted forwards through the air. A dart hit the ground instead of his back, and a curse was heard from above.

"Don't think you can get away from me!"

The escapee did not even look around, only increased the jerky movements of his flight to be harder to hit. But no more darts came, and he drew a careful sigh of relief at the possibility that it took the hunter such a long time to reload that his prey had managed to get out of range.

He rounded a corner… and heard a beep.

Beep?

The next thing he heard was the buzz coming to a sudden halt, as did his momentum. With a half-strangled cry he hit the ground, but managed to curl into a ball and roll to protect his head. Disoriented he sprawled out, gasping for air as he tried to get his bearings straight again. Light footsteps approached and his eyes widened in fear – he knew those steps with every fiber of his being.

A shadow hovered over him, and a manic giggle sounded through the dark air.

"You didn't think I'd build something without a remote control, now did you, silly?"

Hands rose up against the weak lamplight, fingers bending like claws as the harpy dived at her catch with a triumphant cackle. He blindly flung himself away, scrambling to his feet and lunging forwards. He felt her nails scratch his legs for the briefest moment, but that only sent another shot of adrenaline through his system, throwing him forwards with even greater ferocity.

"Come back here!"

The steps followed him, but he was far quicker and soon rounded another corner. Flinging himself into a dark alley he dashed further out of sight and dove for cover behind a few trashcans. The steps halted for a moment, hesitated and then disappeared into the opposite alley. Silently praising his luck the refugee scrambled backwards as silent and quick as he could. He reached the other side of the alleyway and peered out onto the street suspiciously. There were only a few Krimzon Guards passing by, and they did not even take note of him. From their tense movements it seemed mostly like they wanted to get away from everything and purposely missed important stuff only to get moving quicker. Well, he was not going to complain.

Eyes darting around, he stepped out. One of the KGs muttered something to his companions, but they took one look at the slightly trembling silhouette and concluded that whatever nut that was, he was already half dead and nothing to worry about.

That was, until he jumped with a surprised shout as something hit the ground beside his left foot, ripping up a small puff of sand.

"Surrender!" a commanding voice snarled from the rooftop on the other side of the street, and the KGs found themselves close to throwing down their weapons by pure instinct.

They looked up at the shade against the sky in confusion, unsure what to do.

"Aha!" came a female voice from the small alley.

The trembling figure cursed under his breath and dashed down the street, away from the soldiers. From the rooftop came another string of cussing as the man up there took another dart from his belt and began reloading his hunter rifle. He looked up from his work as he heard the call from below.

"Which way did he go!"

The hunter studied the dainty, huffing lady on the street for a moment, then grimly nodded to himself.

"That way!" he called, pointing in the direction of the fleeing man.

"I'll try to cut him off!" the woman shouted back and took off.

"Great, I'll be there in a sec…"

He was about to return to the reloading business, but caught sight of the silent troop of Krimzon Guards.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped.

The soldiers quickly turned away and hurried in the opposite direction, muttering excuses that the hunter could neither hear and nor cared about. As soon as they thought that they were out of sight they hurriedly exchanged glances and nodded. The leader reached for his helmet and pushed the red button on his communicator.

"Report. There seems to be a manhunt going on in sector three, commander."

Pause.

"Well, uh… ex-commander and traitor Torn seems to be involved, Sir."

The reply almost sent him crashing into the nearest wall, and even his comrades in arms heard the furious buzz from their superior's roar. It sounded like a very obvious and very angry question. The leader staggered back into balance, pressing a hand to his head. He gulped.

"Uhm… because he was scary, Sir."

Another pause, longer this time. The speakers appeared to be rather silent as well.

Finally there was a silky whisper from the leader's communicator.

"Yessir," the KG said, "yessir. Nossir. Nossir. Nossir! Yessir. Right away, Sir!"

He pushed the button again and surveyed his nervous comrades.

"Either we find out what's going on or we're all volunteers for the raid against the metal head nest," he announced.

Glances were exchanged. As were swearing.

In the industrial section, there were more curses flying as the pursuing woman furiously turned her head back and forth, searching for the quarry she had lost. Muttering under her breath she hurried along the main street, glaring at all possible turns for the faintest track of the escapee.

But the one she sought for was already far away, diving into even the faintest openings between buildings that he could press himself through as he fled. Finally he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, trying to convince himself that he would be okay – he knew this place like the back of his hand after months of hiding from Krimzon Guards.

Okay, calm and steady…

He pushed away from the wall and took three steps forwards, only to have his feet caught on something which caused him to fall smack on his face. Cursing, he heaved himself up and looked around, brow furrowing dangerously.

He froze as he heard the snicker.

"Thaaat'll be as far as you go, big guy," a drawling voice announced from the shadows.

"You!" he snarled, scrambling away from the small shadow emerging from behind a heap of crates, "you can't do this to me!"

"Why couldn't I, partner?"

The shadow stepped closer, teeth glistening in the blinking illumination from a broken sign above them. The small figure casually rounded up the rope he had used to trip the refugee. It was him – the only one who knew these streets as good as the hunted, the only one who knew all his tricks.

"Now just sit still and let me tie you up, okee-doee?" the little one said.

"No!"

He scrambled to his feet and stumbled away. He did not get far, however.

The small shadow loudly sighed.

"Ttt," he tsked, "I expected as much, ya know. Your turn, Big S!"

Big S?

Ka-click.

"Agh!"

The refugee skidded to a halt and staggered up with his back against the nearest wall, stare alternating between the massive barrel a few inches from his chest and the red glow in the darkness above it.

"You heard the rat," a husky voice smoothly said, smirk apparent in the words, "it's the end o' the line, chili pepper!"

"You-"

He gritted his teeth, then suddenly sent his knee upwards. The barrel was knocked out of the way and the owner let out a roar of exasperation as the movement accidentally caused him to pull the trigger. A chaos of ropes exploded from the barrel, but the one it was thought for had already wormed his way through another thin alley when the net hit the ground.

The small shadow stepped up to the heap of thick threads, sniffing the air thoughtfully. The grin returned. Noticing this, the angry giant ceased his cursing and hunched down to have a look at his partner in crime.

"Got a trace there, lil' buddy?" the big one asked.

"Oh yeah."

A chuckle.

"Nothing to worry about, my tanned friend, I could find this babe in my sleep!"

And with that, he hopped forwards and easily leapt through the crack between the two buildings, where the game had disappeared.

Meanwhile the center of everyone's attention stumbled onto the harbor, ducking behind every Krimzon Guard troop coming into sight. He got a few strange looks, but did not have time to bother about it. He quickly passed the turn to the main street up to the palace and continued forwards as fast as he could handle. For a few minutes of jogging, nothing happened. Then…

"Psst!"

The hiss made him jump and he spun around, glaring suspiciously at the blond woman waving at him from a nearby doorway. Her fine figure was lit up by the flashing pink sign hovering above the door.

"Don't worry, I know what's going on!" she called as loudly as she dared, "come on, you can hide in here!"

He hesitated, fearing a trick. But his heart was beating its way through his chest and his throat almost bled from all the gasping. Would it not be worth the risk, just to rest for a minute?

After a few moments of swaying, his body decided that hell, at least he could try to get his breath back before he started to run again.

"Okay," he slowly said and headed closer to the entrance, "but if you try to trick me…"

She vigorously shook her head and hurried inside. He moved slower, taking a very suspicious peek around the nearest area on the other side of the entrance before he actually stepped inside. It seemed like the coast was clear, and he cautiously closed the door behind him.

A throaty laughter nearly made him jump out of his skin, but he had already noted the owner of this voice and could handle it fairly well. A disgusted glare met the amused one as the laughing man hovered down to the still mildly gasping refugee.

"So, the hero is the hunted now, 'ey?" the, uh, thick voice of the place's owner gurgled.

He gave a toothy grin and swept up to the middle of the room.

"I'm looking forwards to the, mmm, result!" he chortled, "I've put my money on a couple of ah, safe bets. But keep it up, lad, it'll be an amusing dinner tale!"

The hunted did not even consider giving an answer to that. Instead he chose to completely ignore the owner, and stalked over to the bar to get something to lean on until his whole body had stopped throbbing. He could feel his pulse all the way out to his fingertips.

"You look exhausted," the blond woman said and gave him a sympathetic look, "here, have a drink."

A glass with a golden liquid was gently pushed into his hand, and he lifted it to his lips without thinking.

"Thanks-"

In the last moment he caught himself, and a quick glance at the woman revealed the flicker of impatience in her eyes. She smiled at once, trying to cover it up. But it was too late.

"Thanks, but no thanks," he said and quickly put the glass down.

Her smooth brow furrowed and she grabbed the glass.

"Damn! But if you wanna do it the hard way, pal…"

She ripped up a washing cloth from beneath the counter and emptied the contents of the glass onto it with a swift motion. He was already halfway through the door when she swung herself over the bar and lunged at him. Gasping he propelled forwards and kicked the door shut, hearing a reassuring crash and curse from inside. Without another glance backwards he hopped onto an available zoomer and took off towards the park, going as high up as the vehicle allowed.

Inside the bar, the woman picked herself up from the floor, rubbing her sore nose with the hand not drenched in the knock out drug.

"Sorry, boss," she groaned, "it was this close!"

"No bonus for you, 'ey," he mercilessly scoffed.

She sighed, but perked up as the door opened. In the opening stood a fuzzy little thing with sadly drooping ears and shoulders.

The boss rolled his eyes as his employee squealed in delight and swooped the depressed little creature into her arms.

"I lost 'im," the hugged one whined, "that cheater grabbed a friggin' zoomer!"

"Don't worry, sweetie," the blonde said as she marched through the door, "we'll hunt him down together, right?"

"Don't come back unless you win, 'ey!" the floating lard ordered.

"Yeah, yeah…"

The door closed.

"Fatso," the woman muttered.

She glanced around and spotted another free zoomer, conveniently and strangely enough parked just where the escapee had gotten his half a minute earlier.

"Let's ride the wind, sweetheart!" she grinned and popped her little darling onto her shoulder.

"Oh yeah, baby!" he cheered, rubbing his hands against each other.

During this, the hunted had reached the park and as he flew past high above the rare grass, the thought hit him that maybe it might have been wiser to just fly out above the harbor and stay out of reach above the water for a while. At least until everyone had returned from being completely nuts. And also, it might have been wiser not to go to another area where there were a lot of stuff for enemies to hide behi-

Bang.

He cursed all existence to hell as his zoomer jerked and a dangerous amount of smoke erupted from its backside. Another shot rung out before he had managed to gain control again, and the steering became even more difficult.

"Third time's the charm, pretty-boy!" a nasal man's voice came from the shadows on the ground.

"Not _you too_!"

With all his weight he geared the protesting vehicle downwards and flung himself off it before the third shot sounded through the night air. The poor zoomer crashed into one of the walls and the explosion destroyed a nasty portion of the precious green life on the ground. For the second time he curled into a ball as he fell, rolling into a pair of feet.

Crap.

He gazed up through the crack between his arms, only to be met with a puff of smoke and the sweet, stinging smell of tobacco. A hand reached down and grabbed his collar.

"I think I win, blondie. It's a fine payback from the bite you failed to protect me from down in the sewers."

"You're all frickin' crazy!"

With a snarl the refugee grabbed the offending wrist and twisted his whole body around. The criminal screeched in protest as he was flung through the air, but fell silent after a loud "ugh!" and a punch to the stomach.

"Nothing personal…" the prey grimly snarled.

He rubbed his knuckles as he rushed towards the bazaar, gritting his teeth every step of the way.

Only a few Krimzon Guards were around in the silent market as well, and they did not attempt to bother him either.

Actually, he was starting to miss the times when those bastards were his main problem. He could always count on their slowness. Well, no use lamenting that for too long – he had to focus on staying out of sight.

Ducking into an alley he leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath again. It had failed to prove a good idea so far, but he was about to faint from exhaust.

Unbeknownst to him, only a few hundred yards away a pair of blood red, full lips twisted in a hungry smirk as their owner listened to a report.

"He's ju-just in at the entrance to the park, in an alley, ma'am," a shaking, high-pitched voice crackled through the communicator in her hand, "you know where they sell the anti-metal head charms."

Pause.

"Could you get me one for this favor?" the jittery voice hopefully asked.

"It's a small repayment, I assure you," the woman softly said, gazing into the night like a hunting wolf.

"Ni-nice. Good luck, I have to take my pills and- holy hyperventilating!"

The woman jumped slightly, looking down at the screen with a frown disturbing the tattoos on her forehead.

"What? What is it?" she demanded.

"Oh dear, oh dear… there's someone we haven't counted on, madame! He's in danger!"

She calmly took her handgun from her belt and surveyed the dart loaded into it.

"Oh yeah, he's in danger alright…"

"No! I mean _real_ danger!"

"What?"

In the alley, the refugee's ears twitched at the new sound. Flapping?

He looked up and glared at the jerking shadow unsteadily hanging in the air just outside of his hiding place.

"Oh no. Hell no. I swear I'm gonna break your feathery neck," he snarled.

"No, no, no!" the shadow hurriedly said, heavy accent lining his every word, "I'm not in on this, I swear! Really!"

The escapee surveyed the intruder with suspicion for a few moments longer, then pushed away from the wall, slowly. He was not prepared to trust anybody, especially not after what had almost happened in the bar.

"So, then what?" he demanded.

"I was sent to warn you," the flyer said, "for there is a hunter which not even the hunters themselves expected to see on the chase. You must be very careful, for he-"

Click.

"- is just behind you. Eeek!"

Shrieking, the strange half-bird fled.

The refugee stood very still as the cold, metal circle of a gun was pressed against the side of his neck from behind.

"My… fancy seeing you here," a low, husky voice whispered into his ear, "what's a young, blond thing like you doing in a place like this, and at this hour?"

"This is the last thing I need right now," the hunted hissed, eyes darting back and forth as a gloved finger twirled a lock of his hair.

"Oh, I hope I always am such a thing. Move it."

The finger left his hair, but the relief was short since the whole hand then grabbed his shoulder and shoved him around, further into the alley. The gun moved, hovering in front of his face as he backed, holding both hands up in defeat. His captor followed his every step.

"My men keep sending me reports about a blond man with a green goatee being hunted through the whole city," the armed man said, "out of pure curiosity, what's going on here, Jak?"

"Hell if I know!"

Shining red moved into the corners of his vision and hands clad in gloves made of dark metal grabbed his arms, wringing them up behind his back. He winced, but kept glaring at the man in front of him.

"Erol, look, they're crazy, you-"

"Who?" the commander asked, raising an eyebrow with vague interest.

Jak shook his head wildly, blond hair splaying across his cheeks.

"Everyone! Even Keira!" he said, near panic.

Slowly Erol's head tilted to the side.

"Just a second here… what?"

"I don't know!" Jak groaned, "all of a sudden everyone – everyone! – was fighting over me for some godforsaken reason!"

"And… now they're hunting for you to see who gets you?" Erol guessed.

His lips were starting to twitch.

"Err, no."

Jak's head dropped, but Erol bent forwards and lifted it up by his chin.

"Then, what?" the commander asked, silkily.

"They were, uh, going to play a game of Go Fish to set the winner, but they, ah… have to catch me first."

There was a pause, before Erol's left eye twitched with a spasm. A second later the gun fell out of his hand and he crumbled to the ground in hysterics.

"Oh come on!" Jak exclaimed, trying to break free from the perplexed guards, "you think I'm going to just stand there and take that crap?"

Erol had to make several tries before he managed to calm down enough to actually form a coherent sentence.

"I- I thi-think I might kno-ow… what's wrong…! Gahahaha!"

He stood up, still shaking with laughter and rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes to free them from the tears of mirth. Squinting at the fuming Jak through slit eyelids did not help him gain better control of himself. After a few attempts he at least managed to draw in a deep, if trembling, breath and grinned like a maniac at the blond prisoner.

"It's Valentine's day," Erol said, unsteadily but managing, "don't you know that weird things start happening around here then? You must have been around before."

"Guh…"

Jak's crushed sigh sent the commander toppling over the edge again, and he desperately pressed one hand against his mouth while ramming the other repeatedly into the nearest wall.

"It was never this bad before!" Jak snarled.

"I-I-I'm sure! Bwahahaha!"

"Erol!"

They both looked up as Ashelin's voice snapped through the air. Erol tried to salute her, but was giggling so much that he was forced to lean against the wall instead. Jak rolled his eyes.

For a brief moment Ashelin was stunned at the sight of the crazed commander, but she caught herself and straightened up.

"That's enough, commander Erol," she said, "I'll take care of the prisoner from here."

A trembling hand with only the pointing finger stretched out went up and wagged at the air.

"Ah-ah-ah, madam," Erol said, snorting one final time before getting a hold of himself.

He reached out his other hand and cupped it under Jak's chin, lifting up the grimacing head further.

"I think I want to play this game, too," the commander said.

"Uh…" Ashelin started, eyes darting between the two.

"I caught him, didn't I?" Erol pointed out, "I think I have the right to set the rules."

That was the last drop. Jak ripped his head out of the hold, feet scraping against the ground as he struggled to break free. The Krimzon Guards had to reinforce their grip of him, and still he fought.

"Oh no, no way in hell!" he howled, "Praxis, Kor! Anybody! Just kill me now!"

His wish was not fulfilled, but something happened.

"Well, that sounds boring, doesn't it dear sister?" came a terribly grating male voice from above.

The whole assembly looked up in surprise only to see two thin shadows, both with long hair, standing against the moon that earlier had helped Jak spot Torn. The one with more hip leant her fist on it and waved her other hand in a fake kind of coquette acting.

"Truly so," she said, "he deserves far better, I say."

Jak's shoulders dropped.

"Shouldn't you two be dead, or at least still locked into the dark eco silos… or something?" he asked, almost pleading.

"Oh no," Maia said with an evil little smile, "that really would be no fun at all."

And with that she and Gol crossed their hands, sending a force wave of dark eco energy into the alley. Despite shouts of protest every last elf down there was thrown down by the never before heard of attack by the dark siblings.

Blinking like an owl Jak was brought up from the ground by the same kind of power, too dizzy to even struggle against the invisible force carrying him.

Or maybe, just maybe, he was losing the will to fight. That worked too. He just sighed as he felt a dainty, grey hand on his cheek.

"Hello there, hero," Maia smirked.

Jak opened his mouth to say something, when a bright flash tore through the dark air and barely missed Gol's left ear. The dark sage and his sister disdainfully glared down at the other side of the building.

"Hands off the goods, freaks!" Daxter shouted, heard just barely above the fizzling of Sig's Peace Maker being recharged.

Click. Click.

"Treaty?" Ashelin said.

Erol grimly met her gaze and nodded. Seeing the silent promise she quickly pulled out her communicator.

"Vin! Call the others, Jak just got grabbed by some weirdos in the bazaar- aw, crap. Get back here!"

She threw the communicator onto her belt and joined Erol on the climb onto the roof. From the other side came snarls as Sig, Daxter and Tess followed suit.

They had to hurry, because Gol and Maia were already skipping off far away, cackling and dragging the suspended Jak along.

The poor hero looked up at the sky and sighed.

Only nineteen hours left of Valentine's day. He might even survive with his sanity intact, if he was lucky.

The End…?


	2. The winner's circle

_Author's note: _Okay, I did say "The End" at the end of the last chapter, but I just didn't have the heart to leave Jak like that. Also, people have expressed confusion about what was going on in chapter one (probably due to the lack of names until Erol showed up). And let's not forget that little ellipse and the question mark after "The End".

So, with all these things in mind, I have written a chapter two. Hopefully it'll clear things up a little.

Not that Jak will like me any better, but I guess I'll have to live with that.

Until he finds me.

Chapter two, Go Fish or Die

Krew looked up at the sound of arguing from outside. A second later the door to the Hip Hog swung open and Ashelin Praxis marched in, closely followed by Torn of the Underground. After them a terribly varied troop followed, most of the participants glaring viciously at everyone else and shouting. For the moment, the woman with the green hair somehow managed to be heard above everyone else.

"We can't let Gol and Maia into this, they're obsessed with dark eco!" she yelled, waving her arms at the people already inside and those who were still entering, "who knows what they might do to him!"

"What _they _might do?" Jak snarled as he was shoved inside by Sig, "you don't have a problem with anyone else?"

As he sat down on an empty chair and settled his feet on the nearest table, Erol surveyed the communal bounty through half lidded eyes.

"You talkin' to me, eco freak?" he asked.

"Somewhat, yeah!"

Jak's enraged gaze ran an accusing round through the room.

"What did I ever do to the rest of you?" he demanded.

Gol opened his mouth, but was cut off by the hero.

"_You_ don't count!"

"Humph."

With a scoff, the dark sage spread the back of his jacket over a barstool before he floated onto it himself. His sister settled on the chair beside him.

"Don't you have any morals at all?" Jak asked.

There was a moment of silence.

"You surprise me, boy," Krew finally said from his position above the entire chaos, "haven't learnt the ropes around here yet, 'ey?"

"I sort of thought that there were some standards left, at least in some present individuals."

Jak glared at Tess and Keira. The first of them pretended to ignore him by focusing on scratching Daxter behind the ears, but his childhood lady-friend caught a case of shifty eyes.

"Well, uh…" she said, looking over at Gol and Maia.

"You want to try the life of a furry, girl?" the dark mistress casually asked, motioning at the ottsel in Tess' grip.

Keira cleared her throat and turned to Erol. He leant his cheek on a fist and silently watched her until she looked in another direction.

"Keira!" Jak groaned.

"Quit your sorry whining or I'll give Praxis a call," Erol said, snapping two fingers in Jak's direction, "I'm sure he'd find this amusing as well."

A dainty yet callous hand went down on a table, and the owner put her entire weight on it. This created a somewhat seductive position.

"I'm sorry, Jak," Ashelin said, "Erol did manage to stop your escape. He's got the right to make demands."

"Oh, you'll be sorry, alright…" Jak growled.

The fat shape that was Krew hovered down and peered at Erol. The red-head returned the look from the corner of his eyes, without any greater interest.

"Mmm, so our _dear_ Krimzon commander was the one who caught the prize, 'ey?" the owner of the bar asked.

He did not look quite pleased with this theory.

"Never stood a chance," Erol said, polishing his nails against his jacket. Or rather, polishing his gloves against his jacket.

The butt of a rifle rammed into the floor a few times.

"Don't try to feed us that bullshit," Torn snapped, "I was the one who stopped those two as they took off with him!"

For this he earned a glare from Maia and Gol, as the latter reached down and rubbed a clawed hand against his left thigh.

"Oh yes," the sage let out in a throaty hiss, "you will pay for that later, mark my words."

"I'm quaking in my boots, rattleSanta."

Jak tried to use the moment of divided attention to slip out the door, but since this involved making his way around Sig it was doomed to fail. A quick and brutal struggle later Jak was on his stomach with a heavy boot securely placed on his lower back. Snarling, he heaved himself up on his forearms and gave the room another glare.

"You're supposed to depend on me to save your sorry asses from the metal heads!" he tried, "why all this-"

"We're having a situation in the Hip Hog Heaven saloon, thirty-seventh Harbor Street, Baron," Erol said, staring off into space as he pressed a hand against the receiver plugged into his ear, "you might want to take a trip down here to see it for-"

"Okay, okay already!"

Jak's forehead hit the floor.

"I'll shut up!" he snarled.

Snickering, Erol let his hand fall.

"It wasn't even activated," he smoothly informed, "you think I'd let that old clog – no disrespect to you, miss Ashelin – cramp my style in a moment like this?"

"Sadist."

The word was almost muffled by the planks of the ground. Erol's lips tilted upwards in an evil smirk.

"Oy!" Krew snarled, smacking his hands into his own stomach.

The sickening slapping sound forced all eyes to turn towards him, most of them surrounded by cringes.

"There was, ah, a bet here, sweethearts," the fat man declared, "who caught him, 'ey?"

Erol crossed his arms and glared at Torn.

"I was the one who stopped his run," the new commander stated, with his thumb pointing at Gol and Maia, "all you managed to do in all your turncoat glory was to pluck down those freaks."

"You don't know true beauty when you see it, you fool!" Maia spat.

Erol surveyed her for a moment.

"You don't want me to answer that," he said.

The chaos was avoided by Sig raising up his voice.

"Hold your yakows!" he snapped, "I caught Jak as he fell and tried to slink away after Torn rounded up things on the rooftops."

"Oh yeah," came from the floor, "thanks, man."

"Ohoho, so Sig did get him in the end?" Krew chortled.

Vehement glares flew through the room and the shouting match flared up anew, even if the participants were a bit fewer this time. Jak rolled his eyes, propping up his chin on a fist as he waited for the more civilized madness to commence.

A shot rang out, causing most people in the bar to jump. Under the confused gazes of everyone, Ashelin lowered her smoking gun and looked around.

"This will take forever," she said, "we need to settle it before we can proceed."

She stepped over and sunk down on one knee before the captive.

"Jak? Who would you say caught you?" she asked.

For a moment he looked prepared to finally go Dark Jak on their collective asses, but instead took in a deep breath to calm down. If he finally was allowed to voice his opinion, he realized that it would be a shame to waste it with petty swearing and murder.

With a nasty glance at Krew, who hovered above everything with a threatening look on his blotched face, the hero shrugged as good as his situation allowed.

"Erol," he said.

It was a weak triumph to hear Krew howl in rage – and it was pretty much spoiled by Erol's loud snickering. But, it was better than nothing.

Nodding, Ahselin stood up and brushed imaginary dust off her hands.

"Then that's that," she declared and motioned at the open floor, "now let's set things up to play the card game."

"Hold it!" Daxter said, waving his hand at the room from his position in Tess' arms, "somebody needs to keep an eye on Jak while we play!"

Nobody cared about the hero's groan.

"Sig's doing a good job-" Keira started.

"Nice try," the wastelander interrupted her, "but I'm playing too."

"I'm, mmm, not."

Everyone glanced up at Krew.

"And thank the precursors for such mercies…" Jak mumbled, pinching his eyes tightly shut.

Daxter slipped up on Tess' shoulder and shook his head vigorously at the floating blob.

"I ain't trusting you to not take a bribe, fatman," he said, "any other suggestions?"

"Oh! I've got just the thing! Hang on a sec," Tess said.

She hurried around the counter and dove down behind it, an evil little giggle escaping her lips.

"I know it's here somewhere… we need one of 'em for the problematic customers, ya know."

The sound of rummaging and her words made several of the present people consider raising their eyebrows or break into cold sweat.

Finally, with a triumphant "Aha!" the blonde lady popped back into view.

"Here, Sig," she said, drawing her arm back to throw her find, "tie him up."

"_What_!"

"Shaddup, Jak," the giant said, easily catching the bundle of rope crossing the expanse of air.

He looked up for a moment and added:

"Forget it, Erol."

"Dammit."

Deaf to Jak's loud protests Sig quickly wrapped his friend up, strapping his arms behind his back and for safety's sake tying his legs tightly against each other. As the wastelander dragged the fuming blonde over to the counter and left him there, the others had finished setting up four tables from the boots into one big place to play the game of fate. A card of deck was fetched from behind the counter, and once Torn had counted the pieces of painted carton to make sure all the pieces were there he began shuffling them.

Without a word Ashelin took the deck from her "friend" as soon as he was done shuffling. She divided the deck in two heaps and reshuffled them a few times, then handed the cards to Daxter for the same treatment.

The deck took a full round along the table, suspicious glares flying all the while. But at least everyone got a chance to mess up anyone else's attempts to cheat.

"So then," Torn said as he finally got the heap back into his grip, "everyone knows the rules of Go Fish?"

Impatient nods. Maia raised her hand, earning even more glares. She ignored it.

"Just one thing," she said, "why are we playing Go Fish, anyway? Wouldn't poker or something be more… well, traditional?"

"Sure it is," Torn replied, "but there's not a single inhabitant of Haven who can't stack the deck for poker."

"Ah."

Tess frowned, glancing around the table.

"Speaking of which, aren't we missing somebody?" she said.

This created a brief pause for counting. Finally Sig perked up.

"Jinx?" he said and looked over his shoulder, "Jak… you didn't kill him, did you?"

"No," sourly came from the floor, "he's just out cold in the park."

"Aha. Alright then, I don't care. Anyone else?"

There was a collective shrug. Hey, one less rival could not be bad, after all. Torn cleared his throat.

"Good, then I'll just add one more rule," he said, "no biting or weapons allowed. Winner gets Jak."

"Hey!" Jak called, "can't I at least get to play too?"

The minor crowd looked him over for a second, before giving a united answer.

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Don't think that we don't know all your tricks," Torn scoffed, giving the blonde a disdainful glare, "if you play, you'll win."

Growling, Jak pulled his knees up to his chin.

A grim silence settled over the room, broken only by the soft smacks of cards hitting the table and people hissing request for new cards to each other.

Somewhere during all this, Krew left the room for a while to conduct shady business in the very back of the building.

With such a big amount of people fighting over so few cards, things began to narrow down very quickly. Soon enough, it came down to Keira, Torn, Daxter and Erol in the lead with two heaps of collected fours each.

But through the manic race towards triumph, one of the players suddenly realized that something was wrong when he planned to throw a grin in the direction of the prize.

This yielded nothing but a nasty discovery.

"Waitaminitt!"

Daxter's cards slammed down on the table, and he flew to his feet.

"What is it this time, rat?" Torn snapped.

Annoyed glares were on the ottsel until he pointed an accusing finger towards the floor.

"He's gone again!"

"What!"

All gazes dashed to the depressingly Jak-free spot where Jak had previously been lying in his own personal pool of hatred for the whole world. Chairs hit the deck.

"How the hell?"

The frenzied search below tables and behind the counter revealed no track of the disappeared prize.

"Sig, I thought you knew better knots than that!" Daxter accused while lifting a bottle to check if anything had managed to shrink and hide under it.

"Not even a snake could have wormed his way outta those ropes," the giant scoffed, "trust me on that one."

"Then where is he?"

"How could he make it past all of us without anybody noticing?" Erol demanded.

He impatiently tapped his foot against the floor, watching Ashelin who had her gaze glued to her communicator's screen. Moments passed as everyone else kept searching, until finally a sleepy, jittery voice came through the small speakers in the woman's hand.

"There's nothing recorded of anyone leaving the bar, ma'am…" Vin yawned.

"Nothing?" Ashelin demanded.

"Positive, ma'am."

"That's _not_ positive!"

Hearing this, Torn turned to Tess.

"Are there any other ways out of here?" he asked.

Her fist slammed into the bar.

"Dozens!" she said, sighing deeply, "but, I didn't know Jak knew of any of… them…"

One by one, everyone's gazes traveled upwards. It took a while before this poked any reaction.

"Hmmm?" Krew finally said.

"Did you see Jak slip away while we weren't looking?"

The fingertips of Krew's undersized hands rapped against each other as he studied the roof with great interest.

"Uh, no?" he said.

Click. Click. Click. Ka-click.

"So, you're turning traitor, 'ey, Sig?" the fat man snarled.

"Talk!" was the only reply from the wastelander, narrowing his eye up the length of the Peace Maker.

Krew pursed his lips – quite a feat – and snorted at the crowd.

"No, I did, ah, not see Jak go anywhere," he said.

"Oh, reeeally?" Daxter said, eying him as closely as the ottsel stomach allowed, "look me in the eye and say that again, multi-chin."

Ashelin turned her head to Erol, without lowering her gun.

"How quick can you get a search warrant for the back of this place?" she asked, the corner of her lips grimly tilting upwards.

"One call on the Praxis' hotline," he replied.

"Terrorists!" Krew growled.

Gol took a step forwards and motioned at the commander, an irritated frown disturbing his forehead.

"How come Erol is the only one being used for threats here?" he demanded, "we're villains too, you know."

"He's got the whole Krimzon Guard backing him up," Torn drawled, "get in line."

"And let's not forget the fact that I'm way creepier than you, old man," Erol added with a smirk in Gol's direction.

"You youngsters simply lack class, that's all," the sage snapped, "at least I'm not spouting lines that strongly question my sexual orientation."

"That might be because you had maybe ten lines or so, if I recall correctly," Daxter said.

Gol tried to step on him.

"Whatever!" Ashelin snapped, "Krew, where's Jak?"

Shaking his head, the fatso somehow managed to cross his arms.

"I, mmm, told you, I never saw him walk out!" he sourly assured.

"Did he crawl, then?" Keira suggested.

"No."

"Jump?" Maia said.

"Shouldn't even you have managed to notice that, toots?"

A brief pause occurred as the participants considered the options.

Slowly a fluttering realization rose up in Tess' eyes, the memory of her "boss" leaving the bar for a while during the card game. It could not have been longer than two minutes, but…

"Did Jak leave on his own accord?" she asked.

A spasm made Krew's working eye twitch. Grips of weapons tightened.

"Tell me you didn't sell him off when we weren't looking or I'll make you breathe through your stomach," Torn spoke through his teeth.

"Uh…"

"Oh no, you _didn't_!" Keira shrieked, in horror pressing both hands to her mouth.

The shackles obviously rose quite a few steps. Krew nervously cleared his throat.

"Now, now," he said, waving his hands in a somewhat calming manner, "let's not get violent, 'ey? Business is business, and you were taking up space without even buying a drink!"

Keira's hands traveled to her forehead and she shook her head in disbelief.

"Why didn't he call us when he was taken away?" she wondered.

Pause.

"As much as I admire you," Erol slowly said, "have you been paying attention?"

Her blank look told him everything he needed to know.

Good grief.

"So then," Torn snarled, narrowing his eyes at Krew, "where is he and who did you sell him too?"

"Ohoho, it's no use, I'm, ah, sad to say," the fatso said, "they're far away now."

He turned to Keira.

"Oh, but don't look so sad, 'ey?" he said, smirking a little despite everything, "Jak asked me to leave a message."

Eyes narrowed.

"Really? What?" the troop chorused.

"He said, ah… _so long, you egomaniacal suckers_."

There was another pause. Finally, Erol shrugged.

"I don't care," he said.

He looked back at Krew.

"And I haven't failed to notice that you still didn't tell us who bought him. Cough it up or I'll have every nook and cranny in this building probed."

Without even thinking, everyone took a few steps away from the commander. Even Krew looked disgusted, but caught himself after a moment. He cleared his throat again.

"I see you leave me no, mmm, choice," he coldly said, "but about that…"

He coughed.

Sig's eyebrows twitched.

"Oh no," he said, "you didn't! Not _again_?"

It seemed as if Krew found the ceiling extremely fascinating.

'-'

An ocean of dark bodies swayed back and forth in the dusk, illuminated only by the egg-shaped stones submerging and reappearing in the waves of claws and muscles, and the stray sliver of moonlight making it through a hole in the cave's ceiling. A gigantic shadow stood up in the middle of everything, just barely out of reach for the light. One could only vaguely sense the horror that lurked there, seeing the outline of vicious fangs bared in a grin. Snarls and growls, filled with an animalistic sense of triumph ragged the hot, damp air.

The sliver fell upon one of the walls, and the gigantic spider web stretched across it. And in the middle, a blond figure with blond hair and blue clothes hung.

"Say," Jak said in a conversional tone, "is it disturbing that I feel kinda relived about all this?"

The huge outline in the darkness leant forwards and ogled him with beady, pitch-black eyes.

"Are you trying to be smart, boy?" a demonic voice asked.

"No."

Jak grinned at the look on the monster's face as it pondered this.

"Yes," it finally said, "that does put a damper on things."

"That wasn't my intention."

The grin shifted, twisting into a manic snarl as the lips took on a purple hue and the teeth grew into fangs.

"Now to work off my rage for today!" Jak growled, his final words before the roar of his dark side completely took over.

With a howl straight from the bowels of Hell he tore himself free from his bounds and dived into the sea of metal heads claws first. Metal Kor and his children bellowed with rage and descended upon the demon among them in a wave of dark fury.

But Jak only smiled.

Aah, sweet relief…


End file.
